Take A Bow: Cloud Strife Complete
by Soloros
Summary: This is another side and another story of the "Take A Bow" work that is being done by The Lone Wanderer and I.


The reason I decided to post this here is because The Lone Wanderer insists that "Take A Bow" be in first person, and because he came up with the original idea, that's what we're doing. However, I though anyone who was interested might want to see my original writing for Cloud in all it's original first person, unedited glory. So here it is!

WARNING! THERE ARE MATURE THEMES AND CONTENT IN HERE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! IT'S RATED "M" FOR A REASON!

Also, I do not own Final Fantasy VII. Final Fantasy VII is property of SquareEnix.

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"What we have here," Hojo began with a breath, "Are the Ultima Weapons, specifically designed for our client. Now, as you can see…"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes as Hojo droned on. Not only did he _suck_ at naming things, but he loved to hear himself talk far too much. Sephiroth rolled his hand slightly, singling the scientist to get the hell on with it. "Right, ah, long story short, they are the fastest firing and essentially most dangerous handguns Mako can produce. Joke around the office is that they could hit the Lifestream! Ahaha..ah..ha…oh god," Hojo grumbled as Sephiroth growled at him. The head of Crescent Development had never had a good sense of humor. Not that the doctor was very funny to begin with, so in a sense they cancelled each other out. "I'll just call Cloud in to retrieve them…"

That night I left the building with Seven of the handguns, "Just in case," I had insisted when asked about the rather obscene number of the same gun. I like the number seven; it gives me a good feeling about things. Though Sephiroth had made himself clear that he wanted Fair dead as soon as possible, this was one I would need to take my time about. This isn't one of those jobs you can afford to fuck up a little and still get away with it, like the Katana job. I really could have done something about the other two and prevented the gunfire and maybe even kept the cops from coming, but I was getting impatient. But no, Zack Fair would need to be handled with care. It just doesn't seem right to rush in, guns blazing and assault a weapons maker. I'm sure he's got plenty of exotic, rare, and unknown machines that the public has never seen that could Rip Ya A New One if you aren't careful. Yeah, this one would take time, I would need some weeks to study.

My first week was spent learning his schedule. Every morning he would see a new woman out his front door, then drive off in a pick-up truck around eight to his place of employment. It wouldn't work to kill him there. Too messy, too much struggle to get out. Sure as hell not worth the time or effort if I could knock him off somewhere quieter. But after a full day of work, he'd get back home around four and pour himself (and usually a woman) a rather large number of drinks. The rest of the night was spent…rather loudly… in his room. Lather rinse, repeat Monday through Friday. From what I've seen, the best time to catch him off-guard is during the time he's in his foyer drinking.

Okay, now I've got an entry time. I just need a method.

Two more weeks were spent trying to get said method, with very little useful information coming to light. I tried all the tricks of the trade; fake packages, letters, even hiring a decoy or two. Nothing got to Fair without first going through the rough hands of several well-trained guards and agents. This guy doesn't screw around with his safety: good. That makes him smarter than most young rich playboys. But by the end of weeks two, I was at my wit's end. Banging hard on a non-descript door in a plain alley, my weapons specialist, Cid, opened the door for me. "Siddown and have some goddamn tea," he growled with a gesture. His little living room was all metal, save one plush rug in front of the TV which sat hanging on a wall.

I gave him a curt nod, and did as instructed, removing my black coat as I did. "So what the fuck's the problem?" he asked, taking a long drag from his cigarette and handing me a large metal cup with a rocket on it. He took the seat opposite me, and stared hard with steel-blue eyes. Everything about this guy was pretty iron-clad, a harsh attitude with hard words and rarely a kind mood. But he had always been there for me when I needed it, a sort of father figure. Suddenly he removed a flask from the table and took a long swig, finishing with, "Fuck-damn that's some good liquor."

Well, I didn't say he was a nice father figure. Or even a good one.

"This guy… Zack Fair-"

"Oh, shit, son. Don't tell me you need him dead?!"

"Well, yeah, so I wanted to ask-"

"Give the fuck up!" he cried suddenly.

He sprang from his chain and grabbed a wireless keyboard, switching his TV over to a monitor-view as he did. He popped open an internet browser and began to type a web page I didn't pay attention to. It looked like some ameature blog, with a background and music playing from a movie that had just come out. Loveless, I think it's called.

"See this?" he asked, cigarette never leaving his mouth, "this is a site HE made that keeps track of attempts made on his life! Even minor threats!"

Cid began to scroll through the lists of names and methods used to attempt a hit on Fair's life. Each one was described with great detail, almost like he was writing a short story. "Don't ya get it Cloud?!" Cid asked.

I shrugged, "This supposed to scare me?"

"FUCK YES IT IS! Look at this! He describes every hit in detail, hell, he walks you through it! He's taunting people! Playing games with them! He knows people want him dead and is laughing in their goddamn faces!"

I shrugged again, flipping a piece of hair from my eye.

Cid stared for a moment before switching the screen back to the news. "But none of that scares you. Fuck no, of course it doesn't. Okay, let's drink and think. What the hell can we do to—you okay?"

I had begun to cough madly after sipping the tea. The taste was _very_ strong and burned a little going down. "Y-yeah but what did you put in this?"

"Whiskey. Why?"

I coughed a little more, then shook my head; singling him to go on.

"Okay… what are his vices? What does the guy really go for that could kill him?" Cid pondered taking a seat again.

"Anything. You name it, he does it… 'cept for smoking. I've seen him gambling, drinking hard, and bringing home more strange women than you may have seen in all your porn, Cid."

Cid mused a moment then mumbled, "Oh, I dunno 'bout that…"

"So what's he most prone to?"

"Women, no question about it. But any woman I send in there will just end up falling for and screwing him. I want him dead, not financially responsible for an illegitimate child."

"Shut up a min'… I'm thin thinking," Cid grumbled.

I took another sour sip as a slow smile crossed his face. That smile turned to a smirk, which found its way into the world of fits of laughter. I cocked an eyebrow, "What?"

"N-no. Don' worry man. It's nothing—BWAHAHA!"

I felt a cross look sneak into my expression. "What?" I asked again, with more edge in my voice.

"We could always… y'know… dress you up as a… woman. I know some people who'd be thrilled to see you in a dress! AHAHAHAAHAA!" Now Cid was banging his fist on the table, and spilling Whiskey-tea down onto the floor.

"Look, if you're not going to take this seriously then I'm outta here," I said, turning to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait, hang on man. Seirously, just think it over. I mean you're dead if you do this and fail and you're dead if you don't do this at all, right? Isn't that Sephiroth's going rate? Do it or die?"

"How'd you know Sephiroth put me up to this?"

"Who the hell else would hire the best assassin around to kill the best bussissness man around? It's been rumored in the underground media for weeks. 'Bout time he acted on it."

I shook my head again


End file.
